Sunrise Over Greenleaves
by aknightofni
Summary: While coping with a breaking romance, jealousy, hate, death, and life itself, Legolas, prince of Mirkwood, and his father struggle to hold on to each other in the darkest of times that Mirkwood has ever seen.(title once again changed)
1. Losses

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Summary: A war he disagreed with, a love he would do anything for, jealousy and rage, coming to terms with power- and himself. The story you don't know about Legolas, son of Thranduil, and overcoming challenges that even the fairest of creatures could face...

Rating: PG13

This chapter contains a lot of violence/blood and I suppose battle scenes. It also contains a lot of angst. And (I have to say it like this for a friend of mine) corpse mentionment- aka descriptive of the battle scenes. I say that so you can decide if you wanna read it! Pretty much why there's such thing as a rating so people can choose if they want to read a story of not...anyway

I hope you will enjoy this story! It's not perfected yet, and yes, it will have more than one chapter!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!!

Ok enough of the authors notes on this story and onto, well, the story!!!!

Legolas son of Thranduil, the fairest and wisest of his kind, gentle and yet so firm in strengths, returned from a voyage so long and heart-breaking that his head drooped in a heavy sadness. His mien impressed all, as it remained royal despite the fact that Mirkwood had succumbed to the requests of a dwarven army.

His father rode alongside him, prouder than his son, for he carried many treasures with him. He, in many ways, had been built much stronger in both strength and spirit than Legolas. Treasure was everything in the king Thranduil's eyes, for treasure for centuries stood as the weakness of the woodland elves. His long golden hair danced about him as his horse fell into a heavy trot at the front of the army, guards along all sides and he had a golden wreathe of flowers that had been placed upon his head. Summer had begun and the freshness of them glowed radiant, along with his complexion, which shined as well.

Legolas, however, grew different from his father. Although, they looked quite similar, Legolas having the blondest of hairs and the bluest of eyes like his father, Legolas by far came across as much more handsome. Their attitudes remained strained apart as well, for Legolas cared naught about treasure, and cared only for love, the kind of love that rushed from the sweet waters of the coolest streams of the forest.

War had been glorified for both of them, Legolas having been taught to fight as well as his father and Thranduil already having been skilled with archery and blades. Stronger than other elves of their kind, they came across to their people as strong warriors to trust, strong warriors that would look after them until the end of their days.

Legolas that war, however, left the battlefield in shame, while his father left victorious. To his father, receiving treasure, what they set out for, named them victorious, but for Legolas, victory still called for defeating an enemy army.

They had just left the battle of the five armies, the battle for treasure on the top of the Lonely Mountain, where the dragon Smaug dwelt, the creature that Bard of Dale victoriously slain when attacking Lake Town.

Legolas's eyes were narrowed in annoyance as the horse beneath him bounced with an eager heart, for it awaited its return where it would receive fine rest and feed from the stable servants. The elf patted the horse and voiced loudly, as they were still far from Mirkwood, "We have a shortage in supplies and it has not stopped raining for days."

It was true! The elves had left too much supplies back at the battle site so that they could account for the taking of more treasures! It had indeed been raining as well! The lands were a deep dark gray before them, misty, a large swamp that the horses tread through effortlessly.

Thranduil's eyes traced him slowly, as to find why his son had, since the previous day, been making such comments and outbursts, when the rest of the army remained so quiet. He did not reply, but turned his eyes back to the old path before them, muddy and heavily pounded with rain.

Legolas pulled the hood of his cloak further over his eyes and patted his horse's side once more. Although the cold did not bother him, the fact of being wet and far from home did. "I wish we could have won the battle."

Thranduil looked at him questioningly, "We –_did_- win the battle."

"Against those dwarves." Legolas nodded, "Against _them_."

Thranduil reached his hand into his pack and grasped three gold coins within his hands. He brought them in front of Legolas's eyes and said, "We have so much of it, our bags are overflowing."

"We should have brought more food, Adar." Legolas replied sternly.

"The battle was not against the dwarves, it was against goblins," Thranduil corrected, "I'd say we've won a spectacular battle." He placed the gold coins into Legolas's hand as they rode, causing the elf to smile. Thranduil laughed and clapped his son on the shoulder. "My son."

Legolas replied, beginning to laugh alongside him, "My Adar." This was a common thing that they had done for many years, as if to express that they were to never be torn apart- 'my son' Thranduil would say and Legolas would always reply with, 'my Adar.'

"Is something else wrong Legolas?" inquired Thranduil once their laughing had died down into only a crisp sigh from the younger elf.

"No Adar," lied the elf. "Nothing is wrong." He handed the golden coins back to his father and continued his gaze on the ground before them. A rain drop fell squarely on his nose and he shuddered.

It was then that a scout on a horse ran up beside Thranduil. "Your highness," he said, trotting alongside him. "There is a nice sized clearing in the clouds up ahead. Perhaps there you may give the army a rest. There is also a small cave for you to rest in if it is much too muddy out in the rain."

"I will do as you have counseled," replied Thranduil.

There was nothing more said until what the scout had spoken of proved true. There indeed lay before them a break in the clouds and a cave, large enough for the royals of the party.

Not an hour later, camp already sat up, the only thing visible of elves for miles in that vast land. The armies started fires and began to cook, the soft wavering smell of all kinds of foods coming to the senses. Tents were drawn up and the area was scouted for enemies and food.

The royals sat inside the dry cave, which had been set up especially for them, comfortable and safe. Legolas lounged on a bit of rock, watching little droplets of water fall from the stalactites into a tiny puddle at his feet. "Adar," he said, the fire illuminating his bright elven eyes. "Are you sure that we will be safe here?"

"I am quite sure Legolas," Thranduil replied, glancing at his counselors sitting cross legged by the fire, his cooks bustling about the flames preparing food and mainly his guards, standing strictly by the mouth of the cave.

"There has been no sign of Mirkwood for days," Legolas broke off a piece of rock and chucked it at the wall.

Thranduil scowled and said in reply, "The rocks do not grow back. Do you not hear their cries?" Thranduil had always lectured the utmost respect for the beauty of nature, as orcs in that land had begun burning all that was once sweet and beautiful.  
Legolas snorted indignantly, pulling himself up to a sitting position.

"Something is still bothering you my son, I can feel it." Thranduil questioned. "Now I would like to know what it is that you are thinking."

Legolas shook his head as Thranduil sat beside his son, his eyes tracing him for any slight difference, but there was none. Deciding that perhaps Legolas was correct and that maybe it was all inside of his mind that portrayed the elf as unhappy, he changed the subject quite abruptly. "When we arrive in Mirkwood, what are you to do there? First thing?"

"Sleep." Legolas offered. "Bathe in warm waters. Feast on fresh meats."

Thranduil chuckled, "Yes, I too desire such things."

"To breathe the air of our halls, and smell the freshness of summer in its forests." He smiled lightly, "And it is raining so late in the season, so it now carries scents of spring."

"Awaiting home, my son? Is that what is bothering you?" inquired Thranduil.

Legolas sighed and replied, "I suppose so Adar." He paused and said, "Adar, I wonder how you got us into that war."

Thranduil blinked back surprise and asked, "I got us into this war?"

"Yes Adar. Over treasure. That is what has been bothering me. We did not defeat our enemy...But what was our purpose? To plunder their earnings?" Legolas asked boldly.

"To plunder their earnings?" Thranduil repeated, anger growing in his voice. "Now Legolas, you know perfectly well that we had a share in their wealth. We provided them shelter on their voyage to the Lonely Mountain!"

"Did not!" Legolas accused. "You held them back, locked them in the dungeon-" his voice slowed and he said calmly, "I've said something again, haven't I? I fear I am growing too outspoken."

"Yes Legolas, and I am afraid that I am agreeing with you on that matter." Thranduil answered, shifting his jaw. "Is that how you –_really_- feel? That I rob halflings?"

"N-No Adar," Legolas replied quickly. "Not at all- I was just- outspoken. I do not yet fully comprehend battles and things of such complicated matters as you do."

"Perhaps not," Thranduil answered, turning his attention to a dark figure running into the cave from the outside.

"Your highness!" a scout shouted, running in through the rain that had begun again and the thick night air that had pulled itself down upon them all. "Your highness, they're coming! We have not defeated all of the goblins! Some have returned for us!"  
Legolas bit his lip and lowered his head as his father spoke gravely, "Prepare for battle."  
"Shall I make arrangements to locate the camp someplace new?" inquired a counselor.

"No!" Legolas snapped suddenly, removing a blade from his pocket. "Where is my steed? We must go out and fight our enemies, not run from their eyes when they suddenly find us!"

Thranduil said in reply to his counselor. "Yes, we will go to battle, but also, you must move this camp. Send our outside men on this hunt."

"They will not return, for they are the weariest," Legolas pleaded, "I will go. I will go to make up the things I have said."

"Us of the royal house shall not fight this battle." Thranduil replied.

"But what of us who no longer deserve to be a part of the royal house?" Legolas argued, "Such as myself, as I have deeply shamed this family with my words. I have always done so."

Thranduil sighed heavily and turned to look at his son, who was gripping his knife with determination. "If those be the words that describe the warriors I send out, you would not be amongst them. My son."  
"My Adar," Legolas replied, sheathing his knife.

Thranduil beckoned for a messenger from the far warriors, the scout behind him shouting things such as, "Above all else make haste! They will be here by morning!"

Legolas took his place again, lounging beneath a group of stalactites, as he knew he had earned rest for not fighting this battle and closed his eyes softly, slowly, peacefully. All of the voices and colors were swirling out of his mind, becoming parts of another world, drifting him on a raft through a river of time and people and places.

He opened one eye at the sound of rattling above him, and rolled in alarm just in time for three stalactites that had previously been above him to fall to the place he laid only momentarily before. It was much later than he had expected he would sleep, as elves do not need such long rests, and his eyes traced the cave for any sign of the royal family. It was chaos. The scout had been incorrect and the goblins and wargs had reached them –_before_- morning. The night air was still heavy and thick and the cave was so filled with the spoiled breath of other fouler creatures that Legolas had to gasp for any sort of air he could find.

He drew his knife and thrust it deep into a goblin beside him. "One..." he said nervously. He usually had counted his killings, but this time confusion came above all as did family. Where was the rest of his royal household? His father? The counselors? The guard? What of the scout? What of anyone?

Legolas stood on the rock that he had earlier cornered himself into and drew his bow, his eyes tracing the room. It was then that a goblin with a crossbow turned his attention to the elf, preparing a shot... But Legolas was much faster and quite prepared enough already as an arrow whished directly between its eyes. "Adar." He whispered, stepping through the goblins, half dead, few alive. His feet stepped around the bodies nimbly, but he knew that if what he so dreaded, his father dead on that hard rock floor, that he would trip over him and fall to his death himself.

Since when did the great warrior Legolas fall asleep directly before a battle and miss half of it? Since when did the great elf prince Legolas neglect to protect his camp and people? Only that once had he failed and only that once did he shed a tear of disbelief and anger at himself. Bitterly, he strung another arrow, aiming it through the heart of a goblin.

They were all dead. Legolas had not stopped until he heard the last body thud to the ground. Every single one of them lay at his feet, malignant pools of orc blood forming instead of the peaceful water puddles beneath the stalactites.

"Adar!" Legolas shouted, his voice echoing about the cave in desperateness and volume. "Adar!" It was a pleading scream this time, but no answer came to his ears. Legolas the warrior had fought a one elf battle against many orcs, but a moment too late. He could feel something awful drawing near, something so great in evil that Legolas's heart would turn to ice. He stepped along the loose rock at the edge of the cave, barely even putting any effort toward not losing his balance (though he did not waver). "Adar!" He gasped as he saw a hand buried deep beneath a pile of rock and earth. "Adar!" He began to dig deeper and deeper until the possessor of the hand came known and he fell to his knees.

Their counselor, Termara, had been tortured mercilessly. His long elven locks had been torn short and his skin had been sheered a layer thinner. His eyes lost their sparkle, possibly from the many bruises that represented beatings around the cranium. His clothes were little, as he had been stripped down by the goblin army so that they could find and use whatever they needed that perhaps was on each elven body, such as boots and skillfully made weaponry. He lay in a pool of silver elven blood and his chest did not heave up and down as many an injured elf's would. He was, to the elf prince's dismay, dead.

Legolas refused to leave him there. If he was not victorious he would not leave the bodies there to be mutilated anymore than they already were. He dug away at more rock and continued to stare down into the cold, unblinking eyes of the corpse. They were entrancing. Shaking his head at his nonsense he took the body by the arm and pulled it across the cave floor. He grimaced, as the hand was slipping out of his own because it was so drenched in blood. He then wrenched it by the mid arm and pulled, more rock falling away from the body. "Come along then..." he said to the corpse, but really to himself. "Almost there..." He dragged it with much strength, but not easily, as the corpse was downing him from the sight. It weakened him.

He managed to bring the corpse outside, where it was still raining fat drops and the skies were still dark with night and thunder. His eyes scanned the battlefield before finding more dead bodies and he said to himself. "I cannot bury each of them, but the members of my household I will not leave to rot on the doorstep of more goblins, or to be the feast of flesh that wargs desire so eagerly." Taking a shovel from alongside a shredded tent near the cave mouth, he began to dig a hole.

He worked for a long while, until even through the cold air, sweat began to drip off his brow, mingling with the rain, the blood and the dirt which was muddying him deeply. He was up to his knees in mud. The hole was turning into a giant puddle, filling up with so much water that if he were to lay the body inside, it would just float away within a few moments. In frustration he cried out and fell to his knees, knowing that he was completely alone with a massacre of bodies of those he once loved.

"My son," a voice came gravely from behind him.

"My Adar," Legolas replied, knowing that his mind was playing games with him as it had always done. When there was no answer, Legolas repeated, "My Adar!" In frustration he threw the shovel across the ground, where it splayed mud at the approaching voice through the downpour of rain.

"I should have taken more caution," the voice continued. "You were correct. We were not safe."  
"Adar!" Legolas sprang to his feet and embraced the dark shadowy figure stumbling toward him out of the rain and mud and bushes. "I thought you fell."

"Nay Legolas," Thranduil answered, falling weakly to his knees. "But injured in pride and strength."

"Where are the armies Adar?" inquired Legolas. "There are fewer bodies than I expected."

Thranduil bowed his head and replied, "I sent them off, half to fight the incoming army and half to continue on to Mirkwood with the treasures. I expressed wishes to rest longer for your part, for you looked desperate in your eyes, weary, losing your glow. The scout was incorrect, as wargs came from a different direction with goblins astride their backs. They attacked only an hour later when our backs were turned collecting camp to be moved. The guard forced me to hide. I had no choice and- and this. I could not fight." He moved his hand away from a wound in his stomach.

Legolas supported him by the shoulders and led him into the cave as calmly as he could, setting him down on a rock and searching the ground for any leftover medical supplies. "Adar, I will help you. You will survive." There was a glint from a small box in the hand of a dead orc and he bent low to pick it up, his eyes lingering only momentarily on the face of the cadaver. He lifted the glint out of the box and gasped in anger, kicking over the orc. "Rotten thieves and plunderers! They can keep their treasure, but this was mine!" He unsheathed his sword and in a quick movement had sliced off the head.

Placing the heirloom about his neck he continued his search for bandages and herbs. By good fortune, he was able to locate several clothes and healing herbs which he quickly applied to his father's wounds. "Adar, you will not die. Your wounds are not fatal." He flashed a quick smile to the elven king who was lying there, like the corpse...Legolas traced his chest with his fingers until finally placing his head against it. He could hear the quickening of a heart beat and the heavy heaving of the lungs up and down. His face rose upon the chest and he sighed with relief. He was no corpse and as he had said the wounds would not be fatal.

Alright, that was my first chapter on this story! And believe it or not, I have the second chapter written and ready to go!! I do have work to do other than this story so my updates might not be –wow shes updating like every night or every waking hour of her life!- kind of updates.

I really really hope that you enjoyed this and that you will REVIEW THIS STORY PLEASE!!!!! Thank you for reading! More chapters will come!


	2. Remembrance

Disclaimer: I do not own.

Even though no one reviewed on the last chapter yet, im posting the second. So yeah, pleaz pleaz read and review and enjoy!

"That necklace," Thranduil said quietly, distracting his son from the horrors that lay around them, from the blood that splattered the cave walls, while he worked with the wound. "It is so familiar."

Legolas tightened a bandage, "It was my mother's."  
"Nimphel." Thranduil said, reaching up and grasping the golden figure within his hands. "She wore it around your neck the day you were born and...and...the day she died. Every day she ever lived..."

Legolas placed his hand over his father's fist around the jewel and tucked the necklace into his tunic so that it would no longer be visible. "I rarely remove it. It is always with me in battle. I have never fallen."

"She would not let you fall," Thranduil answered, breathing heavily once more, feeling the binding pain coming from his wounded midriff.

"No," replied the elf prince gently. "She would not." He crushed an herb into a small bowl he found rolling on the ground from the table. "She promised me she would not let me fall." He then stood to his feet to retrieve rain water for the remedy.

It was a long moment before Legolas returned, the two in silence, until finally Thranduil smiled and said, grasping a golden lock of Legolas's hair, a tear slipping down his face. "My son."

Legolas's lip quivered as he placed a hand over his father's heart, "My Adar."

"I have taught you well, mellon nin." Thranduil replied, his breathing becoming sharp from pain, "You are a healer, a warrior and a very good prince." He smiled, but with deemed effort.

"You have indeed taught me well Adar," Legolas replied, "But I am afraid I am not a good prince." Taking a rag he had found laying beside a dead healer, he drenched it and ripped Thranduil's tunic where the wound was located, along his stomach, a rather large wound, just missing an internal organ. Legolas bit back angry tears at the site and said, "Hold my hand Adar." Thranduil did so as Legolas took the drenched cloth and rubbed the fluid he had made into the wound.

Thranduil's grip on his hand had increased to the point of causing Legolas a sharp pain, but he knew it was nothing to what Thranduil felt, a stinging sensation that covered his entire body, a pain so terrible that many pass out from it. Thranduil however much he winced, did not pass out nor complain but merely said, "My son."  
"My Adar," Legolas replied, his mind only on saving his father's life. The wound was clearing up, even though it was not fatal, he was losing blood. The wound was clearing up...The wound was clearing...

Thranduil let go of Legolas's hand and said surely, "The pain has passed."

"And you are healed," replied Legolas. "But not fully. Time and rest will be your partner this route." Legolas went on another search, finding clothes to lay under his father's head as a pillow and finding blankets to keep him and his wound as warm as possible.

"We cannot stay here for much longer," Thranduil answered. "We must move on."

"Adar," Legolas addressed, "You are in no condition to travel at this time. We have a few moments to spare, I can assure you. Now sleep. Regain your strength."

Very few moments later, Thranduil had closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep rest. He dreamed nothing, knew nothing, felt nothing through this time of relief. He was sleeping in the mind as if it were unconscious.

Legolas watched his father closely, knowing that he himself did not need rest as much as he needed to guard. The cave was to be searched by orcs at a later time, he was sure of. The fire flickered onto his father's elegant face and Legolas knew from his pale color that they must remain for as long as possible, nor could he put out the flame that provided such a signal to anything that could be watching them from shadows. It would indeed burn out in time and all would go dark. He still refused to leave his father's side for fuel. He would rather lie in darkness and cold than leave him there alone.

Legolas occupied his mind with other matters as best as he could. He thought of home and how when they arrived there once more, there would be dancing, feasts and all sorts of celebration. They would be well cared for and glad as they once were, as they always had been.

His thoughts drifted to Faerfain, a fair elven maiden, with long golden locks and sparkling blue eyes. Wherever he went, he could smell her, feel the warmth of her breath in the darkness, know the touch of his lips on her own. It kept him alive, during many a battle, the thought of her sweet caresses, of holding her in his arms once more.

He shed a tear. How he wished she were with him right then, to comfort him in such hours of darkness! How he loved her more than anything he had ever known! How he loved her...

The fire lay as merely embers, burning red and hot into the earth. Thranduil's face clouded in shadow and Legolas could not see him, but only knew he still rested by his side from the sound of his breath harshly leaving his lips. Soon the embers had burned down to a nothingness and the two elves were swallowed by the shadows.

Oh, the day they had parted! Legolas pursed his lips. Faerfain had begged him not to leave on such a wretched journey. It was folly and only a wrong in the first place! Nothing good could come of it! Legolas had said as he embraced her and held her softly to his chest, "I know, but it is my father's orders. I must go." He cursed himself. How Faerfain was right!

Legolas felt deeply disheartened from the darkness of the cave. Everything seemed hopeless. He leaned forward to kiss his father upon the forehead when the heirloom fell from the chain on his neck and onto the floor. He then remembered the light that had shown through it, the warmth he felt when he held it. It glowed blue, like an ember, upon the dirt. As his fingers clasped it, he held it within his hand tightly. "Mother," he whispered. "My mother..." Warmth was spreading through him, a new strength of some sort. He closed his eyes and held it in this fashion for a long time, memories sweeping through him...

"Do not be afraid my child," Nimphel whispered softly into the elfling's ear. "The night will not hurt you."

Legolas moved forward, four hundred years of age, clinging to Nimphel's leg.

"The night is kind and generous," she cooed softly, "Like the cool wind on the hottest of days, or the warmth in the dead of winter. Do not be afraid my son, for I am right beside you. I am always right beside you."

Legolas moved forward and immediately stumbled, only to be grasped just in time by his mother. She said softly to him, "I will not let you fall."...

Legolas felt another tear roll down his cheek. The other whom he had loved so much was gone from his life. He fastened the necklace upon him once more and tried not to think of it. When he let go of it, however, dimmer, more tragic memories were instilled once more inside of him. He could remember the palace draped in black, the color of funeral, the color of mourners. He could remember nothing of that time when he was a thousand years of age. He could remember no faces, no features of the funeral at all. Everything was cloudy he had been so tear blinded. The only thing that shone through the blur of the afternoon was the color black.

It was morning when Legolas opened his eyes. He could hear the pounding of the ceaseless rain upon the rock and the smell of the earth rising up with the mists. He had not meant to have slept, but somewhere in his thoughts he had strayed out of duty and into a deep rest, a rest that had slightly comforted him in his time of grief.

He glanced over at his father, who was still in a sound sleep, his chest steadily rising up and down and his breath still rattling inside of him from his wounds. He seemed slightly less distressed himself. Legolas knew, however, that they had already overstayed their time within the cave. The orcs would be there anytime. He needed to rouse Thranduil.

He nudged his father slightly and waited patiently for him to open his weary eyes. "Adar?" he asked quietly.

Thranduil opened his eyes and said quietly, "Yes my son? Must we move on at this time?"

"I am afraid so Adar. Prepare to leave momentarily. I am going to see into our path." At this, Legolas stood to his feet and walked to the mouth of the cave. He closed his eyes and strained them.

He could see miles and miles of hills and fields laid out before them, a vast expanse of wilderness that they would have to trek through before they were to reach Mirkwood. He could see no orcs in their path, just miles and miles of muddy ditches and fresh green grasses, just turning golden from the summer, undulating with one another in patterns and spraying the dew off themselves onto another blade beside them.

Legolas returned to his father, who by that time had managed to sit up. He had taken a piece of lembas bread from the floor of the cave and had started delicately eating it. He looked up softly, his bright elven eyes glowing. "Here my son. There is little here, but it is enough for a day's worth of meals." He paused. "Legolas, why are you crying?"  
Legolas turned away. The site of the king of the Mirkwood realm sitting on the ground eating lembas bread he had scavenged and being surrounded by dead bodies of a lost battle, had brought him to tears. Much had been lost, many a great counselor and guardsman had been slaughtered in the night.

"My son, do not cry." Thranduil stood to his feet and embraced him. "The world will come back to itself as it always used to. We will be home soon. The trees do not stop their swaying after tragedy."

Legolas closed his eyes and shuddered, reminding himself of this. _The trees do not stop swaying...The grass will not stop growing...The flowers will not stop blooming... _His mother used to say that to him, whisper it in his ear softly in the night when he felt so afraid...

"Although we've lost quite a bit of treasure, not all of it, in fact not half of it," Thranduil flashed him a grim smile, "-we have Mirkwood to come home too."

Legolas touched the necklace and closed his eyes, caressing it gently. It was still there, safely hanging around his neck, warming his heart in such a cold hour. "Do you remember her song?" he asked quietly.

"Whose song?" Thranduil questioned, although by the downtrodden expression on his face, it could be said that he knew exactly whose song.

"The rain falls from gray clouds, the moonlight dries them up, the sands of the river rise...it falls...it always rises up again..." Legolas began. He then shook his head. "Adar, we are dwelling. We must travel, as it would be safest to find another resting place before sundown. Are you well enough to walk such a distance?"

"Yes." Thranduil replied. "I am well enough."

Legolas gathered what supplies he needed, gathered them in a pack upon his back and said, "We must leave now." He bowed his head in reverence to those that lay dead for their sake, debated with himself whether he could bury them or not, and left the cave, Thranduil by his side.

They were silent as they walked, their minds in separate worlds from the earth they walked upon. Their feet made no noise as they traveled, but if they had been human, they would have been sloshing and sinking into the mud filled depths of puddles and ditches. When an elf is of age, they do not stumble. Any other creature would have given up unless they carried this feature.

Legolas could hear a river sloshing somewhere off to his left and immediately said, "Adar, we must follow the river! It will lead us to the Mirkwood wine cellars. If we stay close, we cannot veer directions. Now that we have found this river, we must go to it."

They followed the sound as quickly as they could until a great rushing body of water was set up before them. Mists rose up from it like steam in a warm bathe and breathe from creatures that burrowed themselves deep inside the river. They began to follow it upward for a while.

Legolas's thoughts drifted far off. He thought he could see Faerfain's sparkling eyes guiding them back home through the swirling mists. It had been a long time since he had seen her and he missed her dearly...

"Why are you out here all alone, vanim? The night air is warm, but you mustn't linger in darkness." Legolas approached her.

"Legolas," she replied softly. "I love the night. It is indeed warm, and yet so beautiful."

Legolas stepped casually closer toward her. She looked so radiant under the moonlight, her hair like silk and her eyes like the fireflies that flickered through the air. How beautiful she looked that night! Legolas knew as he watched her hum to herself and braid her hair as she swayed there, that he wanted to be with her forever. This was not the first time he had realized this, but the feeling was new each time it came to him. "The night is beautiful on this evening. Every star is out and the path is lit with the moonlight. Come walk with me."

Faerfain took his arm and they strolled together, slowly, but meaningfully. "I've been meaning to ask you Legolas. Why have you chosen to be with me? I am a mere servant girl. I have no wealth, no gain for this kingdom. Why me?"

"Because I love you." Legolas replied simply. "If that answer is not enough for you than I do not know what else I can say to ease your mind." He took her hands within his own. They were petite and delicate. "I love you Faerfain. I love you more and more each day. I love you more than anything else in my life. I want to be with you forever." He brushed his lips against hers and the world stilled itself around them. His hand ran gently through her hair as he kissed her. He could feel the warmth of her breath upon his skin, the feeling of her fingertips running down his spine.

"Legolas!" a voice called.

The two broke away from each other and looked up...

Legolas in took his breath as he and his father walked along the river. He could still hear Faerfain's heartbeat in the darkness of that beautiful night. The river reminded him of other memories, far away memories, but he was lost again, the sound of the river carrying him back to reality.

Ok well that was the second chapter, and I have the third one written, but im gonna see if I get reviews before I post it...so yeah, **please review**...

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Third chapter coming soon!!!


	3. Anger

Disclaimer: I do not own.

This chapter is rated pg13, yeah, the same rating as all the others, for violence, for threateningment (?), and for Legolas's...er...temper. (that sounded odd...ok. But I think that all falls in with the word violence...like I needed to just say all that I did, anyway.)

Anyway, read and review please!

I'd like to give a thank you to my reviewers first:

Andunewen1 – you were my first reviewer! Thank you so much! I will try my best to continue posting more chapters. Thank you!

Moonyasha – Thank you. No, Legolas is MINE, not yours....lol

Trista Rosa Mora – Thank you. And I decided to do what you suggested- I now accept anonymous reviews.

They had walked for hours, covering much ground, neither saying a word to the other, as both were deep in thoughts. They were beginning to feel hunger spread upon them and darkness was beginning to fall as well. "We must find a place to rest." Thranduil said suddenly, breaking their silence. "I am quite tired...my legs feel so weak. I am sorry."

Legolas smiled lightly at him, "Do not be sorry. I know we must rest and it is not your fault that you have been wounded. I am tired myself. We have made progress today. I recognize these fields. I used to take day-trips down here during the summer with a friend of mine. We are almost to Mirkwood."

"But riding is so much quicker my son." Thranduil replied. "I too recognize our location, but on foot it will be several days."

Legolas nodded in agreement, before scanning the river ban k for any sort of shelter. Down by the water's edge there were so brambles, large and winding enough for they to sit beneath and not feel the blinding rain anymore. He might be able to even start a fire. He took his father and led him over to this place. "Here we will stay Adar until morning. Then we must move on once more."

The river was rushing wildly, its sound loud and echoing. The bank of the river was muddy and soaked from the rain water. The brambles were sharp and tore at their clothes as they crawled beneath them. They huddled together as the wind howled about them and slowly steadied the day into darkness.

Legolas struck up a fire with as best skill as he could and tried to keep it going for a while. Unfortunately, he could only keep the flame burning long enough for them to dry off. They still shivered in the cold night air, knowing that they needed to move faster the next day, or their hope would fade with the hours. They ate little, knowing that what food they did have might not be enough for more than a day or two.

During the night, neither elf slept quite soundly. The ground was wet and the air only grew colder. They shivered and sputtered out rain water when they woke quite frequently, and tried not to speak unless they needed.

When the morning sun had risen, they ate slightly more and left the brambles. They were covered completely in mud and barely unrecognizable, but were too cold, even for elves, to care. They continued to follow the river upstream and spoke little once more. Their thoughts traveled to home and of how their lives would surely improve once they reached it. They were almost there, in several more days they would be there.

They continued to travel in this fashion until nightfall. By then, the rain had ceased and they watched the sunset slowly across the lands. They were much closer to Mirkwood and in two more days by foot, knew that they would be standing at the doors of their castle, as it was only a half day on foot until they were to reach Mirkwood's borders. They slept underneath the stars, hidden by surrounding bushes, and slept much better than when it had rained, as the air had turned warmer on them.

In the morning, they ate slightly more lembas bread and continued their long journey. The weather was fair in their direction and they traveled with much more ease. Thranduil was weak, but he managed to keep up well with Legolas.

It was midday that they reached the borders of Mirkwood. It was like a dark cloud that cast its eerie shadow upon that land, but they found it to bring hope. They were almost home. They stepped inside of the forest eagerly, feeling the bark on the trees and the smelling the musty air inside.

They decided since their means of making a fire of some type were hopeless and rather unneeded, they decided to follow the pathway. It was easier and chances were they would find someone from their realm. Their walking was quicker underneath the great bows of the trees and their spirits were much lighter.

Legolas and his father broke out into several songs along the way, sharing the last of the lembas bread, until darkness fell. They could see in this darkness much easier and their eyes sparkled through it eagerly. They slept soundly that night, feeling rather refreshed by the reaching of their own forest.

Legolas opened his eyes to find that an arrow was pointed directly between his eyes. He blinked and noticed the arrows to be of an elven quality, but not Mirkwood's. "Elladan..." he rolled over onto his stomach.

A rather tall elf with long dark straight hair and the greenest of eyes had come into Legolas's focus. He tucked away his arrows and smiled grimly as he knelt by Legolas's side. "I was going to look for you. All of Mirkwood was in such an uproar when I arrived." He helped him to his feet.

"Elladan, why are you here?" Legolas inquired.

Elladan brushed his long brown locks away from his face, so that his pale, glowing skin was visible through the darkness of the forest. "I overheard from Mithrandir that there was a great battle of disarray at the Lonely Mountain." He sighed crisply, "I was disappointed I couldn't be there. Anyway I came to see how you were, it always worries me you know, the way you fight." He shook his head and ruffled the younger elf's hair. "Last time we were in battle..."

"I know," Legolas replied curtly. "I remember."

"Your father," Elladan said suddenly. "How is he?"

"He is not well Elladan." Legolas answered, worry wavering through his voice. "I treated his wounds as best I could, but it is deep inside of him. He has not had proper care yet."

"That is why," Elladan answered, "That I came to look for you. Although I must state that I thought it was –_you_- who would be injured. And I didn't expect you to be in Mirkwood. I even lost a bet with Elrohir off of –_that_-."

Elladan and Elrohir were twin brothers, the sons of the Lord Elrond of Rivendell. They and Legolas knew each other quite well. As set apart from one another as Rivendell and Mirkwood were, they had still managed to see each other every once and a while.

Legolas smiled grimly. It was such a fortune for Elladan to have stumbled across them on that forest floor. Perhaps he could send his father back with Elladan to receive the proper aid he needed for his wounds. When Legolas requested this, Elladan laughed and replied, "Legolas, if we were going to retrieve two people, we would be able to carry two people back." He whistled and his twin Elladan, who looked exactly like him, rode out of the bushes, two white Mirkwood steeds following his own Imladris horse.

Thranduil opened his eyes and shouted in surprise at the site of seeing two of the same elf.

Legolas laughed lightly, "Adar do you remember Elladan and Elrohir? The sons of Elrond?"  
Thranduil stood to his feet and greeted the two elves, who bowed in return. He smiled, "Come to rescue us?"

"We have." Elladan replied, patting one of the white horses by his side. "Ride Túrwaineth. She will bring you swiftly to Mirkwood's borders. And for Legolas we have brought Daweth. She's a bit tricky to ride, the stable master told us, but I'm sure Legolas could manage." As soon as Thranduil had thanked them and all four elves had mounted their horses, they rode deep into the forest, following the path with all its quick turns, the horses never faltering, but running swifter than the wind. 

The warm summer air caressed them as they ran through the trees, coming into view of the stone castle, built into the forest caves. It was a tall castle, elegantly standing, yet simple. It hovered over them as they approached, the trees thickly covering the area. The sunlight shone through the trees only above the castle and it glowed through the dark forest.

Elrohir called sharply to the gatekeeper, who slept soundly at his post. A bottle was still held limply in the elf's left hand and it fell to the ground and cracked when he opened his eyes, startled. "You!" he shouted back angrily.

"I have brought back your king." Elrohir replied, overlooking his tone.

The white horses strode into the sunlight, their manes golden and flowing. Upon their backs, rode the King Thranduil and the Prince Legolas.

The gatekeeper expressed deep surprise, bowed clumsily several times and cranked open the gate for them, watching all four elves carefully trot their steeds inside.

They dismounted upon entrance and a servant took their horses, also bowing. Immediately speaking erupted from servants of all kinds and a counselor, Gonnon, stepped into their view, whom they had left in charge during their absence. He greeted them warmly, bowing and ordering medical help to be given to Thranduil.

Legolas watched as his father left inside the castle and Elladan went to order a feast to be served for them, for they must have been hungry.

Legolas knew immediately whom he wished to see first. He ran down the halls, not caring that he was drenched in mud and quite a wrecked site to see. She was a maid, so she would be anywhere inside of their castle. He threw open a door to an office.

His jaw dropped. Faerfain had a feather duster lying at her feet and she was pushing and throwing at a man who was shouting at her, beating her.

"Astald! I don't love you!" she screamed, hugging onto the curtains.

Astald roughly grabbed her neck and the back of her head and kissed her. "You are beautiful. Why will you not have me!?"

"Leave me in peace!" Faerfain begged. "Please, leave me in peace!"

Legolas's eyes narrowed in anger and he rushed to Astald, holding a knife tightly under his throat. "Don't move." Legolas growled. "Or I will slice your throat and leave you here to bleed."

Astald, an elf of green eyes and golden hair, began shaking, his eyes growing wide. He had not expected the prince. "Your highness," he whispered. "I-I meant nothing."

Legolas pressed the knife against his skin. "I will kill you Astald. I will!"

"She disobeyed orders." Astald replied.

"And you are disobeying mine!" Legolas answered. "Now leave my site you filthy wretch before I change my mind and decide not to spare your life! Tell me why I should go through with releasing my knife from underneath your chin!? Tell me!"

Astald swallowed hard and replied, "Be-Because I-I-"

"Tell me!" Legolas snarled, throwing him onto the floor. "Or I will drive this knife through your heart!"

"It was wrong of me your highness." Astald choked quietly, sweat rolling down his cheek.

"Leave my site!" Legolas shouted.

Astald scrambled to his feet and fled the room as quickly as he could. He had never even suspected Legolas to ever hold any such anger inside of him, to be capable of threatening him like so. It had frightened him.

"Faerfain!" Legolas said, sheathing his knife and crouching next to Faerfain, who was curled up against the window curtain, sobbing uncontrollably into it. He cradled her head against his chest. "It is alright Faerfain. He will no longer bother you."

"Oh Legolas!" she cried, throwing her arms about his neck and rubbing her face against him, not minding the dirt or the sweat from his travels. "He has been haunting my every step since the moment you left me."

"He will haunt you no more." Legolas answered, brushing his lips against hers. "I will make sure of that. He will deeply regret what he has done to you."

Faerfain kissed him and cried softly, "I thought of you every hour Legolas."

"And I the same of you." Legolas answered, breaking away from the kiss and examining her neck, where bruises were forming. A tear slipped down his face to see Faerfain in such agony, and he rocked her softly in his arms for quite a while longer.

"Where is my son?" Thranduil questioned, several hours after they had returned home. "I hope he is alright."

They were seated in the main throne room, Elladan and Elrohir in chairs beside him. They were all in much better spirits and had been given much more presentable appearances since they had arrived. Thranduil was almost completely healed and was wearing royal robes. A wreathe of summer flowers had also been placed upon his head. He looked much more like a king would have.

It was as if on cue, that Legolas stormed through the room, still in his traveling tunic, covered in mud. He was incredibly angry and had his knife out. He suddenly lunged at Astald, who was in the corner, fixing up drinks for the visitors. He held the knife under the elf's throat.

"Legolas!" Thranduil scolded, standing to his feet. "What are you doing!? Drop the knife! Immediately!"

Legolas had no option but to obey him and he quickly sheathed the weapon, still glaring into Astald's eyes. "There were bruises around her neck," he hissed to Astald. "So I will put bruises around yours."

"What is this all about Legolas?" Thranduil demanded.

Legolas kicked Astald in the shins and said to his father, "I want this elf beaten! Beaten and executed!"

"Legolas," Thranduil said softly, coming to his son's side. "What happened?"

"This elf has been harming Faerfain." Legolas snapped in reply. "He has been harassing her and kissing her and laying his filthy hands upon her!"

"Faerfain?" inquired Thranduil. "The maid?"

"Yes Adar. The maid." Legolas answered. "Do something about Astald, Adar! I beg of you!"

"And what mingling do you have with the maid Faerfain?" Thranduil asked quietly.

"I love her." Legolas replied boldly.

"So do I." Astald replied. It was almost the last thing he had ever said, if Thranduil had not grasped Legolas's wrist before the knife had come down.

"Enough of this nonsense Legolas." Thranduil said gently. "Put the knife away. And I will do as you have asked to Astald."

Contented with this statement, Legolas did as he was told. "I meant to cause you no worry Adar. But this elf has done ill! Kill him for what he has done!"

"I will not execute Astald," Thranduil said. (At this, Astald groveled at his feet. "Such a kind and compassionate king!") "But he will be beaten severely."

Astald's face fell and he grasped the hem of Thranduil's robe. "Please sir, please show me mercy!"

"I have spared your life," Thranduil said in discomfort. "That is enough for what you have done."

"You take his word!" Astald accused, pointing at Legolas. "He lies! As he always has lied! You remember your highness? When he went on that hunting trip!? He lied your highness! Hunting trip indeed! He was off fighting a battle with Gondor-"

"I have heard enough." Thranduil said angrily. "Take this elf away!" At this, the guards came forward, seized Astald and dragged him out of the room.

"I do not lie." Legolas said in protest. "I do not lie! That filthy wretch! I do not lie!"

"I know Legolas," Thranduil replied softly. "You have never lied to me- except when you fought that battle with Gondor." He smiled weakly and said into his tear-stricken son's eyes, "I would trust you above anyone else." He then turned to a servant and ordered, "Retrieve this Faerfain. I desire to meet her." The servant bowed and disappeared out of the room.

Ok hope you enjoyed! Please read and review! Chapter 4 is coming soon!


	4. Love and Distress

Disclaimer: I do not own.

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!

This chapter is rated pg13 for violence and blood. And major major elf torture...

Oh yeah, before I forget to mention this: don't get discouraged because it seems like its turning into a romance story, cuz its NOT. LoL. Although this chapter shows a lot of the relationship between Legolas and Faerfain, since the last chapter barely introduced it. And the rest of the story isn't going to be as romantic-y as this chappie is, but I thought I should leave it in cuz it explains their relationship...as I said.

Oh yeah, and the entire chapter is NOT as cheesy the whole way through as it is in the beginning where Faerfain is introduced to Thranduil. Who knows, it could be considered cheesy or something, but whatever, I thought it was important so I left it in lol.

Now a thank you to my reviewers!:

Moonyasha- ownership papers!? Cries lol. That's ok. I get to keep the dwarf then! Lol

Andunewen1- wow, that is such a nice review cries again because im happy thank you so much! I will try to continue to do everything you described!

aroswein- yes, I completely agree with you about the title thing. LoL. At the time I thought it made sense, but now that you mention it...lol...yeah...it doesn't. Thank you so much for your review and I will try my best to update fast!!!!

brilliant-author16- thank you! No I wish I made up the name Faerfain, it is pretty isn't it? I actually found it on I probably should have mentioned that.

Faerchithiel- I will definitely develop Faerfain's character. And don't worry she's not a mary sue...although I did make her look like me- im kidding. LoL faerfain is different than she seems...that's all im gonna say for now!... yeah lil clue I decided to stick in. but anyway onto the story!

Lady Alathon- Thank you for bringing that to my attention, about the blood color and the sleeping with the eyes open. I apologize I have made a mistake. Although, I think I'm going to leave the chapters the way they are...although I'll try and remember those facts because they are important details that I overlooked. Thank you for your review!

Appologies if I missed a reviewer, which I'm pretty sure I didn't... 

And thank you all for your reviews!!!!

Legolas sighed crisply. "Adar, I know you are unhappy. She is a maid and I a prince. But I love her, I do! I love her-!"  
"I know, my son." Thranduil answered. "I know. I am not unhappy. If you are happy, I could never be unhappy. My son."

Legolas embraced him, "My Adar."

Faerfain stepped uncertainly into the room, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She bowed as she entered and asked nervously, "You called your highness?"  
"Come closer Faerfain." Thranduil ordered.

Faerfain nodded, and took three more steps forward. "Is that close your highness?" Her white dress was wrinkled and her hair was rather messy from her encounter with Astald. She caught Legolas's eye and let a tear slip down her face.

"Do not cry fair maiden." Thranduil said gently, taking her hand. "Is it true that my son is in love with you?" She nodded quickly. "And, fair maiden, is it true that you are in love with him?" he asked. Once again, Faerfain nodded. Thranduil then had the opportunity to glance at her neck and see the large bruises that covered it. The realization came to him of harsh fates that Legolas had saved her from. "Stand beside me no longer fair maiden. Go to him."  
Faerfain looked at him hesitantly before running forward and throwing her arms around Legolas. Legolas cradled her softly against him and watched his father intently, waiting for him to say something, anything.

Elrohir sensed the tension in the silence and said to break it. "I've never seen Legolas look at someone with such contempt as he looked at Astald. I've never seen Legolas look at someone with such love and devotion as he looked at Faerfain."

Thranduil turned to Elrohir and said softly, "Aye, I can see that Legolas loves her very much and that she loves him the same. I would never break them apart, not for all the treasures in Middle Earth."  
"That is, by your permission," Legolas began, "that we may marry?"

Thranduil smiled softly and said, "You have all of my blessings, Legolas."

Legolas kissed Faerfain softly and they stood in this way for a few more moments before Thranduil clapped his hands together and said, "The two of you, put yourselves into a more presentable appearance. I believe we have an engagement feast to attend."  
Faerfain smiled as she ran her hands through Legolas's hair and embraced him. "You have done so much for me, Legolas."

"We have not had a proper engagement," Legolas replied, going onto his knees before her. "I love you Faerfain, more than anything in this world. I want your decision and no one else's, will you except my marriage proposal? Will you marry me Faerfain?"  
Faerfain laughed lightly at the site of the prince of Mirkwood on his knees before her and replied, "Aye!" He stood to his feet and swept her off hers.

After a few moments, the two took leave of the king and left to prepare for the welcome feast, which had so suddenly transformed into an engagement dinner. Faerfain left for her room, but Legolas detoured into the dungeons.

Astald was a wrecked site. He was chained to the wall, screaming and begging the guards to release him, claiming that he was wrongly accused and that they were to let him go immediately. The guards did not heed him, but stripped him of his shirt. At this, they struck at his back, blood trickling down to the floor.

Legolas confused even himself. He derived so much pleasure out of having this man beaten for what he had done to Faerfain and yet the site of his blood raining down onto the stone floor made him shudder. He had never watched a man bleed so clearly and yet not rushed to his aid. It was not in his nature to let something like this happen. He continued to tell himself that it would be a pure insult to Faerfain to bound forward and grab the whip from the guard's hands and yet guilt passed through him, so much guilt at the sound of Astald's agony.

Astald indeed sounded as if he were in grave agony. He screamed and fought and struggled, never stopping his horrible cries. From all of his fighting, the whip had managed to hit him on the face and blood smeared over his hands as well.

Legolas shuddered and turned away. The site of a silver puddle forming underneath Astald was making him queasy. He had never held such contempt for a man before in his life, and yet he felt remorse for placing this terrible order upon him. He tried to reason with himself, tell himself that when he had ordered this, he had pictured all of the times when he was an elfling and had gotten beaten for doing something wrong and not clearly defined the difference. Guilt continued to wash over Legolas. Of course he had defined the difference.

His mind had been counting all along the number of times the whip came down across the man's back and each time he thought to himself, "Why don't these guards stop!? Enough has been done!" He turned however, when a hand was placed gently on his shoulder.

"Faerfain," Legolas said quietly. "You should not be down here."  
"And neither should you," Faerfain replied. "Obey your heart."  
Legolas let a tear slip from his eyes and shouted to the guards, "Stop!"

The guards immediately threw down their whip and bowed to him. "Yes your highness?"

"Enough, this man has learned I am sure." Legolas replied. "Let him free."

The guards nodded and obeyed the prince's orders, quickly unlocking Astald's chains. Astald stood up, wrapped his torn shirt about him, glared at Legolas and ran as fast as he could carry himself out of the dungeon.

Faerfain was in a gorgeous dress, white laced, down to her ankles. It was a gown that she had only had for special occasions within the palace, feasts or royal visitors, to look more presentable. It was the most expensive thing she had ever owned, but she was glad that Legolas did not mind. "Are you wearing that?" Legolas inquired after a few moments.

"Yes." Faerfain replied. "Are you wearing –that-?"  
Legolas smiled grimly as she motioned to his traveling clothes, "No, I think I will go and change."

"You did a good deed, letting him free, Legolas. He has done wrong, but I do not wish him to suffer so much. A wrong for a wrong..."

"I understand Faerfain. It was foolish of me to make a decision without you." Legolas answered. "Without myself present."  
She kissed him softly on the cheek. "Come Legolas. The others are waiting for us. Hurry and ready yourself." At this, she led him up the stairs and left him standing in the hallway.

Legolas sighed crisply. It had been quite a tiresome day for himself and quite emotionally draining. An engagement feast, his own, was to be held that night, but he was not happy. He was with Faerfain, whom he loved above all, and yet he was guilty because he had so brutally punished her offender.

He ordered a bath to be heated up by a servant and quietly slipped into it, his thoughts drifting away much as a river would. After many long minutes, he picked up the soap and scrubbed his skin, as if trying to wash away who he was, to clean himself of the prince he was, to wash away the dirt of everything that had happened to him. After an hour of bathing, he came to his senses and wore one of his finest tunics to dinner.

He made his way as quickly down the hall as possible, his hair still slightly wet. He looked handsome, but yet sad within his blue eyes. His appearance was royal, as a prince's should be, but his expression was downtrodden. When he entered the dining hall and glimpsed Faerfain, now with her hair pinned up in a flowing way, many of his fears were forgotten.

He took his seat next to his father, who sat at the head of the table, and beside Faerfain, who was patiently waiting for him. Legolas kissed her softly as he sat down.

"Well, that took you long enough." Thranduil reproached.

"Apologies Adar. I had a few thoughts to sort out." Legolas replied.

"The feast is now ready," a servant announced gladly.

The sons of Elrond sat directly across from Legolas and his affianced, eagerly awaiting the feast. The counselors sat beside them, lined all the way down the table, the empty seat of Termara's, the elf that had been so brutally tortured during the ambush by orcs, impressing into Legolas's already much troubled mind.

The servants placed the feast upon the table. There was roasted game of poultry and boar and there were freshly picked fruits and berries of all sorts. There were fresh salads and skillfully cooked breads as well as the finest wine of the elves. Once this had been laid, Thranduil stood to his feet and made a toast.

"I know," Thranduil started, "That this was supposed to be a feast of the return of my son and myself. But, I must inform everyone, that there has been a much more important matter to have come up. This is the engagement of my son. Legolas has chosen the fair elven maiden, Faerfain, to be his bride." At this there was clapping, Legolas noticing that the applause did not come from the other elven ladies who had their eyes on him. After he had said this, the feast continued.

Legolas began to slowly taste his food and felt completely loved by all around him, but he could not help but ask himself about his journey, and how he had changed so much, for better or worse, throughout that time. He jabbed at his food moodily and pushed the plate away from him. All he could think of was the word worse.

Everyone else seemed delighted with all that happened around them. The sons of Elrond presently carried on a long description of a battle they had fought, a ridiculous one they felt at that. Thranduil's counselors bellowed with laughter as they listened to the exciting, but strange anecdote, that entailed Rohirric jesters and dwarves.

Faerfain sat beside Legolas, her lips parted in a fair grace, pink still, lush, and she moved a wine glass to her lips, never spilling a drop, her eyes intent on Legolas. She set down her glass of red wine tenderly and said to Legolas, "Why do you sit in such silence? Are you still feeling troubled?"  
"Aye," Legolas replied quietly. "I do not deny that I am feeling much confusion." He sighed and his distraught face changed as he placed his arm around her softly. "My dear lady, I must apologize, for my mood has brought you much unhappiness." He knew that his statement held true, but that Faerfain brought determination in not letting it show to him.

It was sudden, but Legolas felt cold chills erupting across him as he saw a face of an elf in the doorway, not any elf's but Termara's. He blinked and glanced back up, but he was gone in an instant.

"Legolas?" Elladan asked curiously from in front of him. "What are you looking at with such a fearful glance?"  
"Tis nothing, Elladan." Legolas replied. "I have merely just had a very pressing journey and I am weary."

Thranduil placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "Yes, I am afraid that his care for me has been very taxing on our journey."

"Not at all Adar." Legolas answered, although he knew that it was true; he had gone haggard worrying about his father's health. "If you will excuse me, I need a moment to myself, as my mind is indeed very troubled." He stood to his feet and sauntered slowly into the hallway, leaving the rest to just wonder what was on his mind.

Once Legolas had exited the feasting hall and had walked a while down the corridors, he sighed and sat down in a wooden, intricately carved chair to rest. He was indeed growing worried with himself, for he was having some sort of a mental complex within his mind. He closed his eyes and placed a hand to his forehead, but when he opened them, there was something standing across the room from him.

Legolas knew that his eyes must be deceiving him, but when he glanced up once more, he ended up staring, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the site. He could feel he was shaking and beginning to sweat and his mind was shouting, screaming, "He's dead! He cannot be standing there! I saw him dead!"

Termara stood there, a crooked grin on his face, his hair ripped and his body beaten severely. He was covered in a dry silver blood and his eyes were boring directly into his own. The elf's skin was shredded and brought in no means the appearance of skin itself. Termara was just as Legolas had found him in the cave that day.  
"I believe this is yours," a cold, sneering voice came from behind Termara. He tossed the body down onto the floor at Legolas's feet. It crumpled up, for it held no life inside of it.

When Legolas had recovered shock, he looked up at the voice, to see whom was standing there, but no one was any longer in that dark corridor. They had fled.

Legolas fell to his knees and kissed Termara's forehead. He held the elf within his arms and cried against him. He would have never thought it would have been possible to lose someone so dear to him, so much apart of his family, again...

Legolas strolled through the garden, enjoying the last of the sunshine before the clouds would continue their sway above Mirkwood. It was Autumn, a favorite time of year for his family. The leaves changed completely on every tree, a beauty so wondrous that Legolas himself could not but hold his breath.

He had, out of the corner of his eyes, seen a terrible reality that haunted him whenever he was alone with himself, in his own thoughts, digging and pondering for anything. He would always stumble upon this memory and grasp it between his fingers, not able to let it go, as it was the last time he ever saw his mother.

It was a site he had never forgotten, for since that very day it had been branded within his mind. Her body lay gracefully upon the ground, her long dark curly hair unraveling around her. Her blue eyes were softly closed and her soft lips were parted in a sad way. No air escaped them. Her chest did not rise up and down.

Legolas gave a cry of grief when he saw that she was dead and that his father, sat there, cradling his wife's head in his arms and sobbing into her, sobbing. Legolas had never seen his father cry before- ever. There he sat, sobbing uncontrollably, holding his deceased wife in his arms...

"Legolas," a voice said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Legolas turned, a hard, glare in his eyes, and snarled placidly, "Leave me!" It was happening all over again, a body in his arms, himself sobbing, just like his father, about someone very dear to them both.

Thranduil pursed his lips and kneeled beside him, "My son, how have you come across this corpse?"

Legolas ripped off the top of his tunic and placed it over the corpse softly, putting the elf's hands neatly folded over his chest, a bow from the counselor's sash placed there as well.

"Someone wicked has brought him to me, through this very hallway. But I did not manage to glimpse the offender." He replied with a sad air to his voice, and repressed a sob deep inside of his throat.

Thranduil watched Legolas with much worry, as now that Legolas had no shirt upon him, all the battle wounds of the past were visible upon him, glaring out at whoever cared for him. Thranduil could not help but sigh as he ran his hand down his son's back, where many scars existed from warg bites, orc attacks, and even injuries from training.

"I will kill whoever did this." Legolas said softly. "Whoever did this to Termara. Whoever brought him here to mock our cries..."  
"Legolas," Thranduil replied, helping him to his feet, "I firmly suggest that you give yourself rest. You are tired and much has happened. Sleep will clear your mind most generously."  
"Not until I kill the person who did this!" Legolas shouted in answer, anger sifting through him. They had killed Termara...tortured him...murdered him...mocked his corpse after he had been through so much... He immediately drew a dagger from his boot. "I won't let this happen again!" He then threw the knife violently at the wall, where it stuck into a wood panel. "I can't...Adar... I can't kill someone...I don't have proof- I don't have any proof of who did it."

"Legolas, rest yourself for tonight. I will send the guards to give this man a proper burial, in the morning we will attend it. As for now, sleep will be a great partner on this journey."  
Legolas smiled grimly at the way his father had twisted his own words, "I have trust in you Adar. I know that you would not stray me wrong."  
"Worry about nothing." Thranduil continued, ushering him down the hall. "Close your eyes until morning." He then said sternly, "I will not have you wandering this hallway. It will drive an elf mad, Legolas. If I must put guards against your door, I will, for you are troubled enough."  
Legolas replied faintly, "Good night Adar." He then shakily walked toward his room, where he changed from his feasting clothes into a light sleeping garment. As he crawled underneath the covers of his bed, which he rarely slept in, for he was always out, as many elves do, reminiscing as their rest within the night, he could only picture Termara's 'crooked grin' and the whip beating down upon Astald's back.

Oooh, yeah I told you it wasn't as cheesy and romantic as the beginning.

Think you know Faerfain right? Well you don't know her that well yet.

Think you know Astald right? Well you don't know him that well yet.

LOL yeah.

Anyway, that's not my favorite chapter...for some reason...but I didn't wanna say that before you read it cuz then you wouldn't read it... and that would just be like devastating to me lol

But now that you've read it!

REVIEW PLEASE! Lol

Next chapter coming up when I get reviews! (and when I get it written. I had all the previous chapters written and this one I'm still working on.)


	5. The Color of Mourners

Disclaimer: I do not own.

Well hello again! I apologize for not updating for a very long time. I had the chapter written and everything. I just didn't update. I was, however, inspired to update because of cherryfaerie's wonderful review!

Thank you cherryfaerie for your review!!! I'm soooo glad you're enjoying the story!! Sorry, can't tell ya about Faerfain and Astald yet!!! But you'll find out soon! Anyway, that was a really nice inspiring review, and I'll try my best to update soon! I do try to update a lot...I just wasn't quite sure if I was happy with the ending on this chapter...Ive decided I'm gonna keep it like this...Hope you'll like it! More chapters after this one to come! Enjoy!

And thank yous to everyone else who reviews!

Legolas awoke with surprise, as he had not expected himself to be able to fall asleep. Rest had indeed caused him to feel much better. It had broken him away from his thoughts for a while, long enough for him to feel he could face his problems. He felt stronger once he stood up out of his bed, even when he finally remembered that he was to attend Termara's burial that morning.

He stretched and quietly creaked open his wardrobe. Reaching in the back of the storage he finally pulled out a black garment, a royal robe only made for mourners. As he held it out in front of him he wondered if it would in any way still fit him, hoping desperately that it would not as if it would change the fact that there was a funeral in the first place.

He slipped into the garments and repressed a shudder as he surveyed himself within a looking glass. His eyes were red and swollen from crying, perhaps in his dreams, although he did not realize it. His features were pale and he was haggard from such terrible events that had befallen him.

There was suddenly a knock at the door and when Legolas permitted entrance to whoever it was, a maid entered. The maid, to Legolas's disappointment, was not Faerfain, but another by the name of Aradiel.

Aradiel preferred to saunter than to walk, and never lost her eye contact with whichever royal she spoke before. Her eyes sparkled a deep blue and her straight light hair fell gracefully at her waist. As she glanced upon him, Legolas looked up, her entrance always being made known, even though she remained a mere maid in his castle. Her voice was smooth and harmonious and she could speak without any objection by the listener.

"Your highness," Aradiel said, as she placed herself at his side, "If you will pardon my being so bold, but you do not look fitting in black."

Legolas ruffled the collars of his robes and replied quietly, "Black I must wear, Aradiel. I am to attend with my father the burial of our good counselor Termara this morning. Black is the color of mourners." He let his gaze fall upon the blue eyes that held such a strong enchantment.

"If I may be allowed, your highness, to suggest another color?" she twittered within her voice, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Legolas brushed her off of himself with one sweep of his left hand toward his right shoulder and replied, "I am engaged Aradiel. You are not my affianced."  
"Aye, your highness." Aradiel agreed, a tear flitting into her eye. "I apologize for loving you. For always loving you."

"Aradiel," Legolas said softly, "I am not fitting for you. You must find another elf to spend your days with, for I belong only to Faerfain. Our hearts are one, dear maiden. Do not weep."

Aradiel fell into a fit of uncontrollable sobs, falling to her knees before Legolas. "Please take me your highness! I am beautiful! I will serve you! You made me believe that you loved me! Please! I love you your highness!"

Legolas closed his eyes in disbelief. He had never shown Aradiel any sign that he had loved her. All he had ever done was request for her to be his maid because she worked and cleaned to the best of her abilities. He loved her as his maid, not as one to be his wife. She was indeed beautiful, but her heart was confused and in dire need of direction.

The door softly creaked open and Legolas looked up to find his father, glaring down at Aradiel and snarling, "Get up! Get up! I cannot have you groveling at his feet!"

"Adar, do not scream at her. For she is lost in her own mind and emotions." Legolas begged quietly, finding pity to take upon Aradiel, "Please Adar."

"Oh, you are kind and wise and merciful your highness!" Aradiel whispered to Legolas, tugging at the hem of his robes. "You are handsome your highness..."

"I know." Legolas replied simply, for a moment having arrogance cross his mind.

Thranduil glanced at him sharply, before glaring down at Aradiel, who dared not stay a moment longer or else face the wrath of the elven king. She bowed out quickly and shut the door behind her. She still never lost her graceful stance.

"Why are you glaring at me?" Legolas asked finally, when Thranduil just stood there, an angry expression on his face. "I did nothing to lead her to think that I loved her. I only love Faerfain."

"You let her continue with her groveling, expressing whatever she felt, instead of sharply instructing her to bite her wretched tongue!" Thranduil scolded.

"To tell any maiden, servant or not, Adar, to 'bite their wretched tongue' is not proper treatment," Legolas answered boldly. "If she wishes to love me, she may love me. I have no control over her emotions."

"You dare speak to me this way!" Thranduil replied with a growl.

"Let us not argue," Legolas cautioned, predicting that the king's anger would rise further more than it already had. "It is a terrible morning for the both of us, as our great counselor and friend is to be buried."

"Aye," Thranduil agreed, although he was still frowning from Legolas's words, "It is indeed a terrible morning. We are both draped in garments of black. Perhaps that is why we are holding our thoughts so uneasy. I came into your room to notify you that you are nearly late, as you have overslept. The burial will begin in very little time." At this, he turned, opened the room, beckoned for Legolas to follow and left, without glancing back.

The burial took place in a small, quaint area of garden, where the lilies and roses bloomed so sweetly around them. Much was said during that time, but Legolas's mind was elsewhere. His heart panged as he replayed the battle over and over again in his mind.

He had swiped the orc beside him and had crawled over the many that lay dead to find Termara's body. He had attempted to bury it, but had left it there. How so, then, was the body thrown at him in a hallway the previous night? It made him shiver that anyone so wicked could do such a thing to him.

The elves that Thranduil had sent off to fight the incoming orcs returned shortly after Thranduil and Legolas had left the caves. There, they found bodies of many great counselors and carefully moved as many as possible back with them to Mirkwood. This, for sure, had been how they had been found, and yet, why was Termara's so disrespectfully tossed in front of Legolas's eyes in the palace, to torment him? If all elves held so much respect for Termara why would they do such a thing?

Legolas began to sift all the people who hated him into his suspicions and that was how he occupied much of the burial service. Several family members of Termara's and a few friends had spoken, tear eyed, until the king was asked to say a few words. At this, Legolas's eyes fluttered open and he shuddered, watching his father walk solemnly to the front of the group. How did he ever manage, his father, Legolas wondered. He could listen to the words spoken, say even his own speech of grief, and not shed a tear?

Thranduil, having turned to face the crowd of tear-stricken onlookers, cleared his throat and began speaking. His words traveled them all back to days when the world was merrier, back to when Termara had first brought himself into the service of the royals. It was a long and indeed unnecessary story to be repeated, but it spoke of the bravery and loyalty that Termara had shown. It brought onlookers to the realization of how close Termara had been to them all and how important his position was.

The service had ended with Thranduil's final words and the crowd began to slither away from the casket, passing glances at the dead counselor before walking sorrowfully away.

The complexity of the situation was too much for Legolas, as he sat down on the ground beside the casket to think. He was experiencing the same strange feelings he had felt at his mother's funeral, remembering the speech that Thranduil had given that day as well, shedding no tears. Legolas curled his arms around his knees and said quietly to a guard, who was in the midst of placing roses on the lid of the casket, "He was a brave soldier."  
"Brave, aye, he was, your highness," the guard answered quietly. "I respected him very much."

"Did you know him well?" Legolas inquired, picking a fallen rose petal off of the ground and holding it within his hands gingerly.

"Aye, your highness. I was under his command during a battle not too long ago. He was a strict leader, but certainly the best I'd ever had." The guard sighed, filled with the memories of his combat with the enemy and of his relations with his own army he had been enlisted within. War was not something that was easily forgotten in the hearts of even elves.

A hand touched the shoulder of Legolas comfortingly and Thranduil's voice whispered softly, "Come Legolas."

Legolas stood to his feet, bid the guard farewell and left the funeral with his father, who looked only solemn, but not too deeply affected. His eyes were a cloudy gray, but did not lose their determination and stern impression that they had always given anyone who dared look inside them.

"My son, you are weary of death." Thranduil stated, turning to face Legolas with a serious mien. "War has destroyed you. The deaths of many kinsman has shadowed upon you."

"Nothing has destroyed me Adar." Legolas answered, absentmindedly braiding a lock of his golden hair, a nervous habit that had been passed onto him by Thranduil and even Oropher. "War is my life. I must fight. I am a brave warrior for my people. I protect them. They know I protect them. I am their only dependency, other than on you, Adar."

"So be it then, that you walk these gardens each day with not the same air that you possessed when you were a child, if you are not destroyed?" Thranduil replied insistently. "War is a threat to all of us."

"Then why do you instill it!?" Legolas snapped, immediately abandoning the braid of his hair and using his hands to wipe the forming tears from his eyes. "I am strong enough to handle any battle brought upon me!"

"Then why do you cry my son?" Thranduil ensued. "Tears are but another evil."  
"I cry not for war." Legolas answered, disheartened. "I cry for our people, who should have to see such times." He then turned on his heel and left toward the castle, his mind only focusing on the face of Termara, the once-beautiful face that had been reduced to peeled flesh and tainted bone, the once strong, handsome elf that had been brought to such grotesque torture, even after death!

Legolas paced lifelessly in his bedchamber, still wearing the color of the mourners. He was no longer crying, as his father's words had spoken truly to him. Tears were indeed another evil and were not possessions of a warrior.

His bow and arrows he had laid out simply on his bed, staring at them, wondering why they had originally been invented. The bow had, he, after many long moments of deep reflection, concluded, been established for hunting food. Then occurred the corruption of the hearts of even the fairest, wisest of creatures: the elves. They began eventually to hunt one another out of pure spite- not for survival.

Legolas ran his hand along the deep wood, reminded of how he had received it. It had been with him for all of his years, seeming, as if through some force, to always remain the correct size for him. He closed his eyes in meditation on the moment he was given such an honorable gift...

Legolas had long, regal braids in his hair and a light crown of spring flowers within his hair. He wore the finest of white robes, with gold trim, and the proudest of miens. He was young, very young, and was attending his coming of age ceremony.

His father glanced at his son proudly, unable to hide the emotion. His son was at the age to be considered a fully grown elf: a prince of Mirkwood. The ceremony was important for all males of royal blood in Mirkwood, as it proved their eligibility in becoming the next in line for the throne.

Legolas had received many gifts of gold, silver and other precious metals, but knew that his father, as hinted, carried something far more greater than the rest. He hadn't a clue as to what it was, but he knew that his father held excitement in giving it.

During the ceremony, Legolas had to walk in the most ridiculously slowest of ways, which, if he were not of elves, would have appeared awkward. His head was held high and he was instructed previous to the event to look straight ahead and never anyway else. Rose petals, which were rare in Mirkwood, were tossed delicately onto the floor before his feet as he walked, as if he were the groom in a wedding.

When he arrived before the throne, where his father sat, he kneeled before the king, who in turn gave a rather tiresome, but meaningful, speech on the subject of his son, who was most definitely his heir to the throne. After he had finished his last words, he removed the crown of flowers and replaced it with a crown of silver, which glittered most royally atop his son's golden hair. Satisfied with this, the king then gave a hand to his son, who in turn took it and seated himself in the throne beside his father's.

Immediately, clapping erupted. The prince had become an heir and an entry into society. All who watched as he sat beside his father knew that he would accomplish many great things, and would, as his heredity promised, become a great warrior.

Once the applause had died down to a silence, Thranduil motioned for the guards to bring him something. Legolas immediately knew that it was his father's gift to him by the proud air that Thranduil moved in. When the guards returned, Legolas stood to his feet before his father and the gift was presented.

"My son," Thranduil began, "-with this bow, you shall become the greatest warrior that Mirkwood will have ever seen. You shall possess greater strengths than even I. You shall follow in the footsteps of I, your father, and of your grandfather Oropher. To my only and beloved son, Legolas, I grant you this bow."

Legolas knew that it was customary for each male in his bloodline to receive a bow for their coming of age ceremonies, but he had not expected, for some strange reason, this gift from Thranduil, who had hinted it was something very spectacular and unusual. This thought was proven wrong, however, by Thranduil's words.

"The bow will not splinter. I have made sure of this. And you shall use it in every battle, unlike your ancestors of old, such as even myself, who have regarded the bow as delicate and breakable, and have so kept it only at our castles to admire daily. You my son, however, will use this bow, as it will protect you in times of battle. The wood is strong and reliable! I have seen that magic constrict it from breaking or slipping from your hands. If you do not fail it, it will not fail you, my son."...

Indeed the bow had never failed him. In all of its years it had never faltered or snapped! On leisure, it sang a sweet note as it released its arrows, but in times of battle where silence was indeed necessary, it would never creak or call out to the enemy, as if it knew the difference between leisure and war.

The greatest warrior in all of Mirkwood was the only proper yielder of this bow, the only who the bow seemingly would answer to- Legolas himself. He had brought the bow with him in every battle and skirmish after skirmish had ran his hand along its wood and felt its glory beneath his fingers.

He now began to doubt his bow. It was finely crafted and after so many centuries, deeply apart of him. Certainly, he did not doubt its strength or its loyalty, but he scoffed at its purpose.

Legolas placed the glass to his lips and took the smallest of sips from it. The wine was indeed good that year, the best of many years. He could smell its sweet fragrance, now which had placed itself on his warm breath. He swirled the glass and ran his finger along the rim, so that it made a soft humming sound, deep in thought about everything but wine.

His father peered over at him, as he sat at the head of the table, so close to his son. Legolas knew that he deeply worried for him, but said nothing as he delicately picked at his food and avoided eye contact.

"My son, what troubles you most?" Thranduil interrupted his son's brooding, knowing that conversation would not be accepted with open arms by Legolas.

Legolas swirled his wine glass and did not reply, but only stared into its depths, watching the red liquid move in patterns with his wrist.

"Legolas, answer me!" Thranduil ordered, perhaps more sharply than he should have, for Legolas dropped his glass in surprise and the crystal shattered into a million pieces.

"Apologies for my clumsiness Adar." Legolas begged as a servant quickly came to remove the broken shards from the floor. He knew that dropping the wine glass would only cause more worry. Elves were not supposed to break things, unless done on purpose. This had been a complete accident. He could feel his father's watchful eyes staring at him worriedly and he looked away as if he were an elfling again, being reproached for something he'd done wrong.

"Forgiven." Thranduil replied, waving off his apology. "Look at me Legolas." When Legolas averted his eyes noticeably at his request, Thranduil moved his hand under his son's chin and turned his head roughly toward him. "You will look into my eyes Legolas. There is nothing to be afraid of. I cannot see behind them as you once allowed me to. I can, however, trace that you are distressed and I could perhaps help you if you would only tell me why."

"You have not guessed why!?" Legolas snarled, breaking away, just as a servant entered the room, bowing and begging pardon. He handed Legolas another glass of red wine, but Thranduil snatched it quickly away and placed it onto the table as Legolas began pacing actively, muttering and expressing much that he had felt in the past few days. He spoke of his feelings for Faerfain, his thoughts of his mother, his grief for Termara, his worry for his own father, his disgust at himself and his hate for Astald.

All the while, Thranduil listened intently, his gaze never leaving his son as he spoke. He had the plainest of expressions upon his face, neither worried nor sympathetic. He nodded only twice: the first being when Legolas vehemently spoke of Astald's terrible deeds and the second being when Legolas brought up the subject of how he had seen his father cry after his mother's death. At this Thranduil stopped his plain gaze and seemed to be holding back hurt of his own, but awe at Legolas's open heart and how he spoke so truly of everything he had felt.

Legolas finally finished speaking and sat down in his chair, swirling his wine glass absent mindedly. He suddenly felt much better over everything and after clearing his throat, said delicately, "Well Adar. I apologize for being outspoken- again."

"It was not outspoken my son." Thranduil replied gently.

"My Adar." Legolas answered, the words rolling off his lips with comfort, knowing that he still had his father and that he felt stability within that aspect of his life, that their family would be together always.

Thranduil smiled and said, standing to his feet, "I toast to you for your valiantly spoken words. And to you also for becoming the first elf in the history of Mirkwood to break a wine glass on accident..." He held up his glass and Legolas smiled in reply, and both father and son laughed together, amidst all that darkness. They found hope inside of themselves, inside of knowing that they were together as they always had been.

There I actually ended on a happy note there...lol. Well I think it's happy compared to everything else so far lol. I hope you really enjoyed it! Please please please review it and tell me whatcha think!  
More coming soon!


	6. Goodbye

Hello! Wow, Amazing, I'm updating! And this is the last chapter. It's rather long, though. Perhaps I should have split it into two, but I didn't. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this. If you don't, please still give me feedback anyway. Thank you!

I must say that I am really really really sorry that I have not updated until now.

Oh yeah, and is this new summary/title better than the other one? or is it bad?

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings.

Oh yes, a quick thank you to reviewers I have not yet thanked:

Andunewen1: Wow, thank you so much for your reviews! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story! I hope that you'll love this final chapter.  
p0pptartt: Thank you so much for reading my story and I hope that this chapter pleases you too!

Three months after the incident, Legolas could prove nothing. He had spent his nights delving into thoughts and memories, but could not seem to find proof that Astald had mocked the corpse of Termara. It was simply a lost case. Legolas had gone on his knees to his father and begged him to do something about Astald, but Thranduil refused unless Legolas could find further proof other than simple accusations. The crime had been belittled and forgotten and the elves of the woodland realm had continued their normalcy.

Meanwhile, on top of everything, Legolas was continuing his border patrol. The task was growing harder, as orcs and such terrible creatures seemed to come much more often, and there was rumor of coming invaders from the eastern lands. The earth seemed to grow darker by the day.

The wedding was growing closer and Legolas felt guilt that he rarely had thoughts of it at all. He was much too preoccupied with his duties and most of all, his enmity for Astald, which grew more by the day. Faerfain had grown worried about him and wished to only calm his mind, but Legolas often snapped at her comfort. Termara was like a second father, and Legolas was determined to avenge him.

It was one late night about four months later than the battles when Faerfain approached him in his chamber. Legolas was combing his golden hair when he turned to find her watching him. "Faerfain," he smiled grimly.

"Legolas," she said slowly, trying to find her words, "I love you."

"I know that," Legolas frowned. He could not guess what she was thinking."Legolas, I love you!" she said more forcefully. "I love you! Why do you not answer me!?"  
"I love you too." Legolas replied weakly. When Faerfain looked even more distraught, he stood to his feet and kissed her. Then she laid her head against his chest and sobbed. There they stood for a long while into the night and Legolas realized that it was time to release the past- for her sake.

Her eyes were so beautiful, her hair so golden! He could only stare in wonder as he gave her their first kiss as husband and wife. Oh, how, he loved her that Faerfain! Oh, how she had given him hope and light in that darkness! He closed his eyes as he saw in his mind the image of a child, a small blonde headed little girl with his own eyes and Faerfain's wondrous smile.

_Oh, what lovely eyes!_

_Like the deepest ocean blue!  
Oh, we that marriage ties,_

_For all eternity, I and you._

_The blood that flows within me_

_Will now be yours to keep._

_Oh, to your heart, I now have the key_

_We will look forever oh so deep._

Legolas felt a joyful tear slip down his face to match the identical one of Faerfain. "I love you," he whispered. "And I always will, no matter what will happen." The look in Faerfain's eyes was enough to speak without words that she loved him too.

It had been decided that Faerfain would bare no child yet for many years to come. Although Faerfain was sorely disappointed, Legolas insisted that they wait until much of the darkness passed so that their newborn would not be in danger. Faerfain had agreed to this, as the newborn would indeed be threatened because he was royal. Middle Earth at war was no place for an infant.  
Even thirty three years later, although not long for elves, the darkness had not ceased. The couple grew restless from want of family, but Legolas still kept firm his decision. His heart said to wait, and so he would wait. Whatever his heart said, Faerfain was sure to follow as well.

Once again, Legolas grew distant from his love and more preoccupied with his duties. He was to leave on a long trip in pursuit of a pack of wargs and orcs that threatened Laketown and Mirkwood itself. Faerfain, however, begged to be allowed to accompany him, as she could not bear to be parted anymore.

Legolas was at first appalled that she would even think to request such a thing. Faerfain knew not how to hold a weapon and it would be dangerous! He knew, however, that once Faerfain had a set mind, he would have to take her along.

The road there was dangerous and Faerfain was certainly a burden in ways that she could not fight alongside the elven males and was in dire need of their protection, but she was a blessing indeed for his highness Legolas, who found strength within himself whilst she was alongside him. Although the warriors alongside him whispered their regrets and the decision of the prince, Legolas kept his wife alongside himself.

They had defeated the orc group that they had come to slaughter. As they returned home, however, a different group of orcs came surprisingly to their diminished numbers. Unprepared, the elves were forced to retreat back to Mirkwood. Legolas then realized as he turned around his horse, that his lady was no longer beside him. He roared in anger and wheeled around to face the army, his bow drawn. What had they done with her!?  
Faerfain… His beautiful wife, the only woman he ever loved so deeply…Oh they were going to have children some day, wonderful, dear little children! They were going to stay together until the end of time!

Legolas's eyes burned with fury and his soul heated up as if it caught on fire from hate. He fired his arrow and it hit an orc far off in the distance. He fired another one, and a second orc fell to his death. It was then that a crossbow was shot from across the battlefield. Legolas felt a searing pain in his arm as he fell from his horse and knew no more…

Legolas groaned as he lay in bed, unsure of why he had just woken up in so much pain. He could feel his shoulder throbbing and his ankle aching. His bones felt weak and his head, oh, his head! How it pained him!

He reached over beside him to place his arm around Faerfain, but she was not there. It was then that he opened his eyes and remembered the horrible skirmish! They had lost and the orcs had captured Faerfain!

He immediately sprang to his feet, only to nearly fall to the floor because of his weak state. He screamed in frustration as he lifted himself up and leaned against the wall.

"Your highness!" a healer scolded abruptly. "You mustn't leave bed! You are injured!"

Legolas could feel his breathing quicken and he replied in a raspy breath, "They have taken my Faerfain."

"We know, your highness." The healer said kindly, coming over to him to help him into bed. Legolas, however, shoved him away when he approached.

"They took my Faerfain!" he shouted. "Leave me!"

"I cannot let you leave this bed." the healer begged.

"Do you expect me to lie here and let them torture her!?" Legolas demanded sharply. "Let me free or I will have you executed for disobeying an order!" It was certainly a rash threat, and quite unneeded. The poor healer didn't know what to do. He never had let a patient stray from his orders, and was certain he would never do so. The prince, however, was insistent and the threat had certainly frightened him. Going against his best instincts, he said quietly, "Go then! Please, go as you wish! But I warn you, prince, that you are not healed!" Then the healer left the room, shaking, as he had really never been that close to death before.

Legolas struggled with himself as he hopped on his one foot, his hand against the wall to guide him. His ankle hurt him deeply, and nearly pulled him downward again if it wasn't for his unharmed arm that grasped onto a crevice in the stone wall. He slowly made his way into the hall and through the castle to the front room. As he opened the doors however, he felt a pair of eyes on him. "Adar," he said slowly, without glancing back.

"What an excellent healer to have you up and about within two days." Thranduil sighed suspiciously. "I have not seen you for an entire two months, and do I deserve no greeting?"  
Legolas nodded, but continued limping out of the door. He suddenly, however, lost his strength and nearly collapsed onto the floor, but for Thranduil, who caught him before he hit the ground. "Let me be, Adar." Legolas begged. "I must go."

"You are still wounded," Thranduil frowned.

"They have Faerfain-" the prince struggled away from his father, but to no avail. Thranduil was determined not to release him and said roughly, "I am taking you back to the healing quarters."

Legolas felt an angry tear slip down his face and he shouted, "They have Faerfain! Let me go!"

"Guards!" Thranduil shouted, Legolas slipping out of his arms. The royal guards immediately rushed over and took the prince from him. "I'm sorry Legolas." Thranduil said quietly, the guard taking him back to the healing quarters. "I am so sorry."  
Legolas, as he lie in bed, did not lose his grief for his wife, but he realized then that his father somehow understood how he felt. There was certainly sadness in the king's eyes and Legolas immediately remembered his mother, and everything that Thranduil must have felt when she died. He remembered Thranduil's reaction and the hurt he had felt because of it…

It was the second week after her death that Legolas decided to approach his father. There had been little talk of Nimphel after her death and Legolas wanted answers. He was only a young elfling and could not yet too deeply know death.

Thranduil was seated at his wooden desk in a warm study room that night, lit with a brilliant flame in the fireplace. He had one fist to his forehead and he was frustrated as he flipped through the pages of a very old book. When Legolas entered he said, glancing over at him, "Legolas, I have told you always to knock before entering a room. Someone could be doing something very important." At this, he closed the book quickly and shoved it away from himself.

"Apologies Ada." Legolas answered timidly, coming over to his father and standing nervously before him, his hands behind his back. "Hello." He could not find his words, although he had already thought out what he was going to say. "A-Ada? W-Why did she have to die?"  
"Don't interrupt me with such silly questions," Thranduil said harshly, spreading out a map before his own eyes as if to feign a state of preoccupancy.

"I don't think it's silly." Legolas said boldly. "I think it's rather important. I've been thinking about it for a long while. I can't figure out why she would die, and you've always said I was wise."  
Thranduil raised a brow and replied, "Legolas, please do not trouble me with this."

"But I want to know!" Legolas shouted. "I want to know why she had to die! I love her and I want her back!"

"She's not coming back!" snarled the king. "You know that! Do not trouble me with such little matters as I have not the time!"

Legolas bit his lip and said as he ran from the room with tears in his eyes, "You have died with her!"…

Legolas awoke once more to pain, except it stung his skin more than usual. He looked up groggily to see healers working with his wounds. One healer was stuffing herbs into his skin to stop the bleeding on his shoulder that had started up again.

He inquired as they worked of the lady Faerfain, but no word had been sent back from the search parties on her whereabouts. This upset Legolas deeply, but he had come to his senses and did not try to go to her again in such a weakened state.

Legolas had healed, quite nicely. Four weeks after the accident he was able to help search for Faerfain, although many had already given up hope for her. He traveled far, his father alongside him at many a time, but did not find her. He searched the many lands and fields until finally he returned home, heart-broken and exhausted.

It was late one night when Legolas felt a soft kiss against his lips. Opening his eyes he saw two other blue ones boring right into his. It couldn't be her, could it? He reached up and pulled her on top of him, where he sobbed and he kissed her, his Faerfain! Oh his Faerfain had returned to him! He had almost given up hope!

"Oh Legolas, I missed you so!" she said, lying in bed beside him, running her hand along the shape of his face, his lips, his hair, his spine! Legolas could feel her breath upon his cheek and her long forgotten smile, oh there it was- but something was wrong!

"Faerfain," Legolas said quietly, watching her smile and how it had changed ever so slightly, to sadness. "What happened to you?"  
"Oh, I was simply captured and escaped to here," she said, saying nothing more of it at all.

Legolas smiled at her through the darkness, "Have you told any others of your arrival?"  
"Aye," Faerfain replied, "Only the gatekeeper, but I begged him not to say a word. I wanted to tell you the joyous news first."

"Would you like to celebrate now?" inquired the prince as he traced his own hand over her fingers.

"I do not wish to rouse them from their slumbers," she replied.

"Ah, perhaps not." Legolas said, succumbing to her wishes. "When the morning dawns we shall. For now, you must be tired and wish for sleep."

"Aye," Faerfain answered, only a moment or two later having fallen asleep.

Faerfain had not escaped torture unscathed. Legolas immediately commanded that the healers take good care of her, although there were no signs of any fight on her body. There were no wounds, no bruises, not a single scratch! This deeply concerned Legolas, as Faerfain had not been acting herself since her arrival.

She looked as beautiful as ever, but her smile, Legolas could not help but notice, was dimmed ever so slightly. She had the same voice and spoke with the same mien as she always had toward him. Legolas loved her just as much as the day he had met her, and promised her that he always would love her.

Faerfain, however, had been acting slightly strange, despite how Legolas tried to deny it. He had woken up one night to see her rummaging through maps of Mirkwood and, strangely, the lands close to the East. He had quickly ushered her away from the desk and back into bed, where she averted his eyes and feigned sleep for the next hour.

It was more often that Legolas awoke to her suspicious behavior, but every time she covered up her doings with a passionate kiss on his lips that was too pleasurable to be denied by her husband. However, not even several years of such strange behavior could steal the love Legolas held for her in his heart.

Not long after, Faerfain asked leave of her husband to go on a trip. She would not say where, which worried Legolas deeply. He offered to go with her, but she refused to be accompanied. This surprised Legolas, as she had never demanded to be parted from him before.

Therefore, after she left alone on her journey, with not even a guard to accompany her, Legolas worriedly approached his father on the matter. Faerfain was certainly not acting normally and he felt he had done something wrong to bring her to such strange actions.

Thranduil stood outside in the twilight, the grey night air that had descended. Little fireflies flickered in the air around him and the crescent moon rose steadily in the sky. He breathed in the scents of Mirkwood, those of his realm which he had come to love so much, when Legolas came quietly up beside him.

They said nothing for several moments, but stood in peace watching the life around them in the trees and the last bird flying to its nest. Legolas finally broke the silence, "Ada," he said quietly, reverting back to the way he said his father's name when he was a child. He felt a tear in his eyes. He, for the first time in his life, felt hurt by Faerfain.

Thranduil glanced over as he saw the first drop run down his son's cheek. "Legolas?"

Legolas suddenly felt himself spinning and he fell to his knees. He could sense warm trickles down his face. He was shaking and he could feel himself losing control, but he could not stop himself. "Why is this happening to me!? Why has everything happened to me!? Why did they have to take Faerfain!? Why did they take my mother!? What have they done to my wife!? And Termara! Oh, they took Termara!" By they, he referred to Evil, the terror that walked the minds of even the fairest creatures. There was silence, not an embrace or comfort, just silence. Legolas let his eyes draw up to his father who was expressionless.  
"It was in this garden," he replied softly. "It was right there in that spot of stone that I found her, that she took her last breath. She had the most beautiful eyes…I don't know why they had to close… Well Legolas. Have a good night and sleep well." At this, he simply left.

Legolas felt as if he were frozen. He was down on his knees, sobbing into his hands and his father had left him there. He closed his eyes in pain and screamed at the top of his lungs. A group of birds that had before been settled in their nests rose up from the trees at the sound. He took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes, remembering the words his father had given him many years before. "Tears are but another evil." He repeated this to himself and said aloud, "She will return to me."

Legolas and his father spoke little to each other the next morning, and when they did they acted as if they had not met the previous night in the garden. They both feigned their smiles, but avoided the eyes of each other. The prince had forced himself to forgive his father, to remember that it was only his way of coping with the death of his wife, of still coping from all of those years without her.

Three months later, Faerfain returned to them. She was distant from her husband and quite solitary in her doings, such as her late reading of maps. Legolas even found her in her father's study one evening, searching through the old parchment upon the old, wooden desk. What frightened him more were her frequent trips to the dungeons, simply to visit. Legolas grew more worried for his wife, as he realized that her mind was growing ill. However, he could find nothing to do that would help her, so he simply loved her.

Faerfain, after one visit to the dungeon, left her husband once more on a three week journey. Legolas debated approaching his father, but was afraid to. He had turned away the last time and Legolas would never admit it, but was frightened of being rejected once more.

Faerfain returned and Legolas rejoiced. When he had just asked of her whereabouts, however, a guardsman rushed inside and said, short of breath, "The creature Gollum has escaped! A horde of orcs has preoccupied us and he has gone!" Legolas glanced at his wife as he stood and his blood turned cold. Faerfain had a smile placed on her lips, a smile that did not belong to her.

It was early one morning when Thranduil came to his son quietly and gave a strange request, "I want you to patrol the western border. Today. You should be back by tomorrow. It is not a long trip."

"Why?" inquired Legolas curiously, for Thranduil was shaking and fidgeting with his hair. "What is the matter?"  
"Legolas, you will do this. For your father," at this Thranduil closed his eyes and shuddered, but a moment later forced a deceiving smile.

"Alright," replied the prince dutifully, "I will just ask leave of my wife-"

The king placed one shaking hand on his shoulder. "I will tell her for you. Now please, go. Go!"

At that, Legolas readied his steed and weapons and rode off into the forest, unsure of what to think. He had never seen his father so anxious. In fact, it was completely unnatural. He debated whether he should turn back and demand answers, but knew that if nothing was wrong the king's temper would surely rise. Besides, Thranduil had walked away from his son. Why did his son need to return? These were Legolas's thoughts as he left the palace. Oh, how later he would wish he had never gone from his father! That he had never left him alone!

He was not far from the castle an hour later. He halted his journey at the thing that next happened. A cry rippled through the air, a long wailing cry that strained to Legolas's ears. His steed made a movement to toss him off its back, but Legolas steadied it and perked his ears once more. The sound had echoed from the castle and he feared what it might have meant, for his blood chilled when he had first heard it.

He rode with stunning speed back to the castle and swept past the silent gatekeeper. He dismounted his horse uneasily and gave it to a very grave servant, who averted the prince's eyes. Legolas was confused deeply and he cried out in distress, "Tell me what has happened!"

"I-I cannot." The elf answered. "Your father. You must ask your father."

Legolas grew pale and sprinted into the castle where he saw his father. The king was pale as well and he looked up in complete surprise when he saw his son. "Legolas! Have you already patrolled the borders?"

"What has happened!?" demanded the prince.

"You have never disobeyed an order before." Thranduil said quietly.

"I heard a terrible scream from this castle and I want to know what you have done!" he said it sharply, commanding, so much that Thranduil shrunk down slightly when he answered.

"Please Legolas. Do not think wicked of me," replied the king. "I love you Legolas. My son, my son!" He reached out for an embrace but Legolas refused it, claiming that until he had said his deed he would receive no comfort. "Legolas, she, she betrayed Mirkwood. She tried to kill you- I saw her with my own eyes!"  
"Whom do you speak of?" Legolas asked, his heart suddenly feeling as if it were freezing inside of him.

"She gave our plans, our secrets! Everything to the brewing Darkness! She was no longer the woman she used to be. Her soul had changed. The orcs that had captured her tore away her soul so that she no longer loved you. I don't know how but they managed-"

The prince held his breath. "Faerfain?"

"I have seen her hatred." Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas's shoulder. "I am not wicked. I gave her the option to leave- but she refused to leave-"

"Faerfain!" Legolas stepped backward, feeling his chest constrict so tightly that he could not breathe. His Faerfain…what had become of her!? "What have you done to her!?"

Thranduil bowed his head and he quivered. "This morning I ordered her execution."

The prince could feel boiling tears streaming down his face as he stared in disbelief at his father. Oh, how his world had crumbled beneath him… "How could you do this to me?" he asked quietly. "How could you do this? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO HER!? TO ME!?"

Thranduil did not move nor reply. He simply stared at the stone floor, as if he knew the pain his son was feeling. Indeed he did, but Legolas had forgotten.

Legolas fumbled with his fingers as he stood to his feet and struck his father across the face. He could see the pain in Thranduil's eyes, the wishing, the regret, the fear. The guards threw themselves onto the prince in shock, but Thranduil waved them away.

The prince let his eyes bore into his father's before taking one more step backward. After a moment of quick debating, he said in anger, "Goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Thranduil repeated. "Legolas, this is irrational-"

"I am leaving Mirkwood and I am not returning," the prince answered. "Goodbye."

"Legolas, my son… My son!"

And Legolas, for the first time in his life, did not reply with 'my Adar'. He simply left.

This is only the beginning of another story, which is not mine to tell. The prince of Mirkwood bit back on his pain as he fled the place he once called his home and left for Imladris. There he delivered the message of the escape of Gollum at the council of Elrond and was bound into the Fellowship of the Ring.

He was the quiet member of the Nine and the other eight seemed to avoid him slightly because he was rarely comfort to them. It was when the death of yet another friend, Gandalf, shadowed him, that the others truly saw him, though he did not tell them of his past. There was no need to, he had reasoned. When he saw Gandalf fall, however, he could see Termara's hand holding his own when he was just a mere elfling. He could see his corpse lying in the puddle of blood. He could see Faerfain and his father…he could see his home so clearly. Much too clearly, he had told himself.

It was not until he befriended Gimli the Dwarf, son of Gloin, that he told his tale and felt the warm embrace of friendship that he had long forgotten.

At the gates of Mordor, he felt the presence of his ancestors, fighting for the freedom of Middle Earth at the last age. He could feel the rage of all that had befallen him spill from his arrows as he fought the deepest battle of his life. It was there, when he slaughtered a row of orcs, that he made up his mind that it was time to return.

When Sauron was defeated, he traveled with Gimli the Dwarf to the caves of Rohan and the forest of Fanghorn. From there, the dwarf accompanied him to Mirkwood.

Silence, only silence as Legolas entered the long forgotten place. He could hear his heart beating inside of himself and the vision of the little blonde headed girl running through the halls that he had so dearly wanted. He felt a tear in his eye. Oh, how he wanted that for so many years…Oh how he wanted a little girl to hold and love, and his wife! Oh, how he missed her! How the years had gone by so cruelly!  
Gimli placed a comforting hand on the elf's shoulder as they neared the gate. It was a quiet place and no one stood at the post. Mirkwood had grown darker. "Well Legolas," Gimli said as they walked. "You are almost there. Legolas?" The elf had stopped at the gates and not moved forward. He simply stared out at the destroyed forest. It had been burned…Oh all of it had been burned! What beauty he once loved was burned! "Come Legolas."

As they entered the palace, Legolas did not see his father sitting at his throne… That room, the room he had last seen his father in. "I used to sit there beside him," Legolas cooed quietly. "That was my place." All of the memories flowed to his senses.

"So," said the dwarf, "Where is your father?"  
Legolas sprinted through the castle, peering into every room. It was in the healing quarters, that he found his father, lying on a bed, three elves around him. He was wounded, very wounded, and had lost much blood apparently from a scar in battle.

He watched for a very long time, the working of the healers, the sweat rolling down his father's forehead. When one healer glanced up to look for another herb, he dropped all of the bandages in his hands. He began shaking and demanded, "Could it be you?"

Legolas did not reply, but approached his father, lying there, dying. He knelt by his side and whispered, "Ada."

The king jolted and opened his eyes to find that there before him were his son's glass-like blue eyes. Suddenly Thranduil let out a sob. He could see Nimphel holding the child in his arms- the first time he saw those blue eyes! The child he loved so dearly! "My son." He reached up and embraced him, despite the pain. "My son!" he screamed. "MY SON!" For the second time in his life, Thranduil cried.

Legolas could feel himself embracing back and he replied joyfully, "My Adar…" Thranduil's breathing slowed and he could feel his pulse weakening. There, for the last time, Thranduil saw his son's blue eyes. He had come home to him…He had come home… And there he lie, letting the last breath escape from his lungs, with a satisfied smile upon his face. Thus ends the journey of the greatest woodland king, Thranduil the Great, son of Oropher.

End.

Well, I'm sorry, did that suck terribly??? Please don't hurt me! LoL. Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you hate it? If it made you cry, let me know. It made me cry, but maybe that was because I was listening to a sad song to help create mood.

I was actually wondering if I went overboard, but I didn't want to edit it out because I spent so much time on it, I mean SO much time…

So I hope you enjoyed this!

Who knows, I might rewrite this later and make it better.

Well PLEASE REVIEW. Even if it's a bad review. I want some feedback.

OH WOW. I actually finished a story. AMAZING.

Yeah. So there you go. My first finished story.

Thanks for all of the reviews…and please review again.

By the way, there were many unanswered questions still looming from my story. The first being that yes, Astald did throw Termara at Legolas's feet, but he was never able to prove it. Astald had done it for anger at Legolas's actions- apparently he held too much hate and jealousy for the prince and his fiancé, Faerfain.

Faerfain herself was not evil. Just to clarify that.

Oh yeah, and I seemed to have forgotten about the sons of Elrond. As much as I love them, and indeed passionately…oops. They're kinda not in the story anymore suddenly. Anyway.

Thank you so much for reading and PLEASE REVIEW! holds out cookie platter


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